Sonnet 73<\/p>\n
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
\nWhen yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
\nUpon those boughs which shake against the cold,
\nBare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
\nIn me thou see\u2019st the twilight of such day
\nAs after sunset fadeth in the west;
\nWhich by and by black night doth take away,
\nDeath\u2019s second self, that seals up all in rest.
\nIn me thou see\u2019st the glowing of such fire,
\nThat on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
\nAs the death-bed, whereon it must expire,
\nConsumed with that which it was nourish\u2019d by.
\nThis thou perceiv\u2019st, which makes thy love more strong,
\nTo love that well, which thou must leave ere long.<\/p>\n
William Shakespeare<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Sonnet 73 That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_mi_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2510,2511],"tags":[2649,295,3396],"class_list":["post-16694","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-literature","category-poetry","tag-autumn","tag-shakespeare","tag-sonnets"],"yoast_head":"\n